I awoke the next day with a debilitating sense of hunger, tossing and turning on my small medical bed. I didn’t dream, just closed my eyes in a tire one moment and woke in a ravenous gluttony the next. By Sol, it felt like a pit straight to hell had been punctured through my stomach.

My vision was blurring things together and my ears rang so loud I didn’t even hear Qixi stepping into the room, only noticing the medic when he started to shake me in annoyance.

“Vannis, Vannis… Vannis!” He shouted, his temper disturbed my lack of response.

Slowly I forced myself to turn around and face him, showing off my awfully gaunt state as I attempted to see him through eyes crusted with red mucus. It hurt to move, the hunger that was always lurking had resurfaced and made every speck of inconvenience emphasised; Heightened senses converted into curses instead of boons.

“By the god’s, you’re further along than I thought. Keldri must have guessed wrong or the Rez harpy lied.” Qixi stated through a grimace, rushing out of the room in a blur of movement so quick I couldn’t even register he left until the booming sound of a door breaking apart echoed.

My concentration on the healer broke in the next moment though as a surge of famine wracked my brain. I was not yet at the point of being delusional, the hunger not as deep as yesterday but instead assaulted with the sensation of something gnawing away at my body and psyche from the inside.

I clasped my stomach in agony, begging for the ache to be swift and retching from desert dryness that paled my throat. I stayed in that position tempted to rip the rags off my body until my clogged nose caught whiffs of a gentle and intoxicating aroma approaching.

It smelled as sweet as the fresh berries I picked as a child but as filling as a piece of the fine game hunted by my father. Ahh, the nostalgia. I was allowed a temporary bliss before the starvation returned.

Divine nectar, beckoning me forward.

I felt it get nearer, and nearer, then stop squirming merely a few feet away from my drooling mouth.

Yet, unlike yesterday, I didn’t approach. I still retained enough of my sanity in this deformed state to grasp what the smell was, what my body craved.

Every single time I thought of conceding the image of that poor broken and mangled corpse seared itself across my mind ape again. Guilt, horror, hatred and disgust filled me at every thought of giving in to the sickness again.

My blood curdled and my spine froze at the idea of how much pain I must have inflicted because of my own hunger. It was my fault, so I had to do better. Never could I let the sickness inside out.

I won’t, not again, not ever.

It was a fight I knew was in vain, but one I struggled against anyway. Deep down I knew I couldn’t have my way but I wanted it anyway. To preserve my perceived moral fibre and see myself in at least one regard above the monsters I was one of.

Selfish and again, disgusting.

“Unlike the others, you’re relatively blameless for this Vannis. I understand your actions, you didn’t choose this, so I’ll save you the painful ignorance.” Qixi voice said through the grumbling sounds of my body raring to dig in.

A gripe strong as steel assailed my neck forcing my face toward the sweet tender aroma of a human blood vessel. I tried to fight it, but the pain in my lower waist began to worsen as well, rendering my ultimately useless struggle even more fruitless.

I averted my eyes in fear, twisted my hands in rebellion and shut my mouth in disgust; which changed nothing of what proceeded. Qixi had no trouble ripping my jaw open and forcing the two fangs into the blood that emanated from a severed neck.

The blood ran warm despite the owner being dead, probably killed by Qixi beforehand. Nothing I did could stop Qixi from forcing the accursed liquid down my throat.

The taste overwhelmed me, temporarily drowning out everything else; silencing all other senses. I found myself in a moment of nirvana and true bliss. My teeth were able to feel a steady stream of ripe life being slowly stolen by my consumption of the cattle’s blood.

A moment of pure respite that was overcome by the revolting sensation of ripping somethings life away.

“This is what you are, Vannis. I told you before, the blood inside you will never try to harm you or lead you astray. If it tells you to kill, then you kill, if it tells you to drink, then you drink.” The blonde-haired healer said, tossing the shrivelled body away with a multitude of emotions layered within his voice.

“What! So you expect me to simply be a slave to such infernal instincts?” I retorted, too enraged by his forceful actions to think properly about how I was addressing my healer.

I shriveled back from him, both scared and angry with no real way to vent them. He hadn’t made me this, but he had forced me to face it. Immature as it was, I desperately wanted to blame him. Qixi moved back a little, his gaze stern but not anger as I would have guessed.

“Not a slave, just a product. I advise you to think about the relationship between you and your instinct before I return.”

He left with his red coat flaunted behind him, walking through the archway that now lacked a door. My morning presents, a rotting corpse in front of my bed and hysteria only quelled by the instinctual calm I defaulted to when my mental stability started to rapidly decline.

********

My second meeting with Qixi had been far from a good impression, but the way he so seamlessly acted as if he’d not forced me to feed was worthy of respect. I wasn’t sure how he lived that way, indifferent to what those around him might think. Such an insouciant life he must have lived.

Besides healing me and eventually getting rid of the rotting body at my continued request, all me and Qixi did was talk. Apart from the small bust from Kell, who tried to cheer me up in spite of looking absolutely distraught, all I did was talk to Qixi.

Am I being a little overbearing?

I asked myself as the hours went by and I continued to pick his brain. Qixi didn’t seem bothered at all though and reassured me multiple times that he enjoyed speaking about his own race as it brought him a lot of pride.

The first day was filled with confirming and disproving what I already knew while adding on little tidbits as to why certain things were.

First off, I was a Fangless, supposedly one preliminary stage of undeath that gave birth to either a fledgling or a ghoul.

Unlike a fledgling, I did not possess any power at all besides my basic physiology being converted. Examples of this being my lack of strength but the presence of claws, fangs and pale skin.

What I lacked was most of what made a Vampire so deadly.

“Wait, so if I understand correctly, a Fangless’s hunger will progressively get more demanding after they are transformed, right?” I asked for clarity.

“Correct, until either, they are fed from a fully realised vampire, take the blood of other Fangless in combat, or…”

“Or?”

“…or become so lost in hunger and madness that they tear off their own flesh and consume their own blood till they are satisfied, becoming ghouls.”

That sentence more than just horrified me, it basically laid out that were I to rebuke either becoming a fledgling or feeding in general for too long, there would be devastating consequences. It took only moments after for a small voice inside me to giggle and grin, laughing in an “I told you so” manner while enjoying my predicament.

Qixi didn’t care and kept going, glossing over ghouls like they were a sore subject.

Turned out that sunlight, any amount of it, would instantly vanquish a vampire. Reflected sunlight however wouldn’t kill but burn. Silver as well, the non-enchanted kind, burned vampires just as I had read.

But Qixi was adamant that the light of Sol burning evil reasoning as stated in the many books I had read about monsters, was utter bullshit.

We couldn’t enter places unannounced due to something that kept coming up dubbed “The laws of Fall” and we couldn’t derive Susitience from anything other than blood. Even as a full vampire, you would become a ghoul equivalent if you didn’t feed.

He went on, and I listened, explaining the basics of a vampire, the rules they had to follow and how they functioned around society. It was all broad and pretty vague but I got the gist. He also explained in detail what the Blood Rite was.

I went to sleep that night with a little more trust in myself now I knew what I was actually dealing with. The peace of mind just knowing my lefts from rights in this place had done wonders for my psyche, as decaying as it was.

********

The next few days proceeded as the first had. I would wake up, be forced to feed and reignite my anger towards Qixi only for it to simmer in the face of my endless curiosity.

Particularly the magic he used. Somewhere along he had noticed my inclination towards it and kept his book out at all times, letting off tiny, effortless spells that dazzled me like a child. He held my full attention despite our conversations being as long as the night would allow.

While it may have been unintentional I started to understand certain things about Qixi as he did I. He clearly held the current state of vampires in absolute disdain and his viewpoint on humans couldn’t have been further from my own. He was, in his own words, a cruel, unforgiving, gluttonous predator born to be the apex and prideful enough to know it. Qixi didn’t see anything wrong with any of this behaviour and I wasn’t going to point it out and cancel my lessons or incite his wrath. By my estimation, the only rules he actually followed to the tee were the Laws of Fall, which apparently descended from the Lord of Fall, patron god of most undead apparently.

With that said, Qixi had some immediately noticeable quality that didn’t make him downright deplorable. He was patient, kind to those ignorant and had a certain amount of empathy reserved for the lesser fortunate; if you were a vampire. He never exactly looked down on anything in a malicious attempt, more saying things in a matter of fact way.

On the fourth day as I felt the stinging light that healed me enter through my skin, I finally asked the question I wanted to ask since the first time he had performed this spell. His response to my request to be tutored in magic was less than satisfactory.

“Maybe after your treatment is completed, but before then, no. Besides, you can’t learn how to cast even the simplest spell in two weeks.”

It wasn’t a yes but it wasn’t a no either. Unluckily, he saw my ploy and shot it down. I really wanted to learn magic just because it intrigued me, but in this instance, there was an ulterior motive. If I could understand even basic magic before the Blood Rite I might stand a chance to catch my opponent off guard.

I wasn’t chosen like all the others, so I was at an innate disadvantage thanks to having no outshining quality that would make me worth giving up a portion of blood.

I slumped in disappointment after that and spent the three days remaining bitter and annoyed. It was immature and frankly rude to act so self-entitled but my life was on the line and with every day my desire to live regardless of the consequences grew.

On the seventh day, Qixi finally allowed me to stand up and I wobbled onto my feet, almost falling down.

“Careful, you’re still getting used to walking again, best not to rush it.”

I looked at him, a little dumbfounded as to how he had somehow deduced a condition I had told no one about.

“Don’t look so shocked. A nineteen-year-old with unfused growth plates is a dead ringer for degenerative diseases.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Didn’t plan on it. Head’s up, your body didn’t ever properly go through puberty so I’d advise wearing baggy pants, especially around the ladies.”

…

In spite of him healing me I left Qixi with a thankless goodbye, mainly because the careless mage had stated numerous times he needed no dull thanks from a Fangless.

Good riddance.

Walking down hall after hall that looked identical, arched with black stone bricks and flushed in an azure glow I soon found myself lost.

Qixi had let me leave only at the end of the day after making sure the last spell had fully healed the wound on my waist, leaving me to be assaulted with the tiredness that plagued Fangless.

Fledging and vampires both stayed active during the day and began to tire at night as well. Unlike them, however, a Fangless would simply drop to the ground like a sack of potatoes the second the sun rose. They had no way to fight off sleep.

So I continued to trek through the stone halls at an increased pace, passing a few in familiar black clothing who I promptly let pass, a sign of respect I had come to learn. Since none wanted to glance at me I was not forced to meet their eyes luckily and my pace wasn’t slowed too much.

That was until I came upon a sole woman, absentmindedly inspecting a deep red set of plate armour that looked similar to the ones lining the lobby area.